Tomorrow Never Comes
by Alternate Reality1
Summary: The extreme version of deja vu...
1. Part 1a: Taking No Notice

**Disclaimer:** none of the characters used in this story from the BTTF films belong to me. Any other characters are of my creation.

This is my next story currently in the works. Read and enjoy, and please let me know what you think so far!!

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**Part 1: i) Taking No Notice**

_Monday, 28th July 1986  
__9:30 a.m.  
__McFly residence_

With a single click the radio came to life with lively guitar chords.

The grainy voice of Bryan Adams filled the room instantly, waking the occupant from his coma. A small muffled groan escaped from beneath the covers as a hand lifted high and wide to end the drone of the radio. The hand searched, until the radio came into grasp. The music ended sharply.

Marty dragged his head from under his sheets, making his hair static in the process. The piercing sunlight caught his eye, forcing him to squint in order to see. Slowly, whilst in half a daze, Marty reached for his alarm clock above him to find his bearings. It was 9:34 a.m.

Groaning in defeat, Marty resigned himself to the need to leave his bed behind to rejoin reality. His bed was always welcomed, especially during the holidays. Burying his head in the pillow one last time, he threw the covers off the bed entirely, and dragged himself to his clothes drawers.

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Lorraine had already risen hours before, more as a habit rather than a purpose. Linda sat at the breakfast table, content with her cereal and orange juice and her weekly woman magazine, as usual. The new diet was working well, even though the rest of the family didn't think she needed to lose weight. But she had a boyfriend to impress, and a social life to lead.

Lorraine joined her at the table, remaining standing as she ate her toast and melted cheese. She'd managed to retain her figure from youth, in a small part due to George because she wanted to remain beautiful to him. Her daughter paid no attention when she moved over to the table.

"So, what are your plans today? Are you seeing Gregg?"

Linda looked up in part disgust. Her mother never seemed to keep track of her social life at all.

"Course I'm not! I dumped Gregg last week! That's the last time he fobs me off with some daft excuse." Taking a quick sup of her orange juice, she clarified. "No, I'm meeting Richard tonight – at the cinema."

Looking a little bemused, Lorraine leaned forward slowly onto the back of the chair. "Who's Richard?"

"Oh, just some guy I met at Dave's work. He knows Dave quite well – lives near him actually."

"Really? Does he work with Dave?"

"He sometimes delivers parcels to the office, things like that…"

Just as the conversation was taking off Marty entered the room. Lorraine moved her attention away to other matters as she made her way to the counter behind.

"Morning Marty. Sleep well?"

Although still drowsy, Marty answered with a nod of his head. His static hair bounced in time with his nod – quickly noted when Linda made a short snigger into her glass at the sight. He smoothed it down with his hand instantly.

"There's some orange juice in the fridge if you want some, Marty," Lorraine called to her youngest, "and there's plenty of bread in the bread bin."

"Sure thing, mom, I'll get something." Marty replied.

Lorraine returned, handbag in hand, and her jacket on.

"You off out somewhere, mom?" Linda asked, noting the handbag.

"Just for a bit of shopping. I shouldn't be long. Do you want anything while I'm out – either of you?"

"I'm fine," Linda replied.

"No thanks," Marty called from the fridge. Lorraine nodded, turning to head for the front door. Just as she reached the door she turned back to add:

"Linda, will you take out the garbage when you get a minute?"

"Sure thing mom," Linda replied in a flat tone, not taking her eyes from the magazine to take note. The article had captured her complete concentration.

Lorraine rolled her eyes, knowing her daughter's mind lay in the magazine. Sighing, she stepped out for the day, hoping to return to a home with its garbage can full outside for a change.

The door closed softly behind Linda as she finally surfaced from her magazine. Carrying some toast, Marty rounded the corner to face where she sat. Seeing her younger brother helped to trigger her memory from earlier in the morning.

"Oh, Jennifer Parker called about half an hour ago. I told you I'm not your answering service!"

"But you do such a fine job! You're also cheaper."

Linda looked and smirked sarcastically with her head to one side. "You meeting up with her today – _again_?"

Marty shook his head as the last piece of toast entered his mouth. He swallowed to clear his throat as he answered, "No, I told her I was goin' over to see Doc today. Find out how the conference went over the weekend. Why?"

"Just wondering." Linda soon lost interest in the conversation.

Wiping the breadcrumbs from his hands on his jeans, Marty took a step towards the table to take a closer look at the day's newspaper. There hadn't been much activity in the town of Hill Valley recently – as could be clearly seen by the bulk of information the newspaper had to offer.

The headline was short and to the point:

**"Police Track New Clues In Search For Bank Thieves "**

Marty quickly scanned the page for the important details. All $7,255 the thieves had taken from the Central Bank of California in downtown Hill Valley had been recovered by police in a house raid on the other side of town. The robbery had only occurred two days earlier, but the robbers had still managed to evade capture.

Returning to his thoughts of the day, Marty replaced the newspaper on the table and made his way over to the front door, jacket in hand. The news escaped his mind as quickly as it had entered. Before leaving the house, he couldn't resist turning to his sister and saying, "_Don't forget to take the garbage out Linda!_" in a mocking tone.

Linda took the joke well – her response was to throw her magazine at her younger brother. He hurriedly closed the door to shield himself from the danger of a paper cut.


	2. Part 1b: Mission: Improbable

Hey, two story updates for the price of one! This is chapter two, but still in Part 1 of the story, if this is making any sense. Please read and enjoy!

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**Part 1: ii) Mission: Improbable**

_Monday, 28th July 1986  
__10:19 a.m.  
__Brown residence_

It hadn't taken Marty long to arrive at his mentor's home. Immediately he could sense the welcome the house radiated – the kept lawn, the colour of the exterior.

Leaving his truck in the driveway, Marty covered the pathway to the front door in less than five strides. He always felt good about visiting Doc and his family.

The door opened in response to Marty's knocks, revealing Jules as the responder. Jules, the eight-year-old boy whose interests lay in rock and punk, smiled at the visitor with warm delight. It didn't remain for long though. Doc stormed to the door almost immediately, making the young boy jump, startled. Doc towered over him, a certain look of disappointment in his eyes as he looked to Jules.

"Jules, how many times have I told you not to answer the door on your own?"

Jules obviously didn't realise the true fear Doc held for his family. The terrorists had only paid the family a visit six months previous – Doc didn't want to risk his family's lives again in such an extreme manner.

Looking up to his father, Jules' smile melted into a sulk as he headed off towards his bedroom.

Shaking his head, Doc lifted his eyes to Marty's for the first time, a small smile of welcome starting to appear. But the smile felt forced, as a cover up for things that were on the scientist's mind.

Marty noticed none too soon. "Hey Doc, what's up?"

Doc gestured for the teen to enter the house with a wave of his hand. The door lock clicked softly into place.

"So what's up Doc?" Marty repeated, folding his arms in seriousness.

Doc turned to focus on Marty's question, but then switched his gaze to the kitchen opposite as he moved over to close the kitchen door. Marty watched his movements closely, until his eyes landed upon Clara's figure sat at the kitchen table. She was crying softly in the distance, obviously shaken about something.

Marty's immediate reaction was that they had had a fight; though he hoped to God it wasn't that. To him Doc and Clara were the model marriage partners, putting other married couples to shame.

Marty couldn't wait for Doc to say it, so he did. "You and Clara haven't had an argument, have you? If you have then maybe I'd better leave you to it."

Doc frowned for a moment, wondering what on earth had given the youngster that idea. He waved his hand to dispel the comment. "No, no – nothing like that. No, I'm afraid it's something that happened on Saturday, while I was at the conference."

Marty mentally breathed a sigh of relief, but knew that wasn't the end of the story just yet.

Doc motioned for them to move over into the den, where they could talk in more privacy and avoid Clara overhearing them. Once again Doc prepared himself for the explanation as he always did.

"Clara told me this morning that she had been mugged on the way to the bank on Saturday morning. She's rather shook up about the situation, especially since she didn't report the matter to the police."

Marty shook his head in annoyance, as Doc continued. "She only told me this morning when I asked what was wrong, and why she seemed to be behaving oddly."

Marty could sense the trouble Doc's consciousness had to deal with, but something told him the scientist already had the solution at hand.

"Did they hurt her at all?" Marty asked in concern.

"No, thankfully, though she's still in a state of shock. They only took her handbag and the money she was taking to the bank -"

Doc stopped immediately as he heard the kitchen door open with a soft creak. He strode over to the hall, to be met by a tearful Clara walking towards him, clutching her handkerchief closely.

"Emmett…?" she called gently.

Doc approached her calmly, and placed his arms around her for comfort. He shushed her quietly whilst rocking gently, as though he were rocking a newborn baby to sleep. She eventually began to calm down – her sobs muting to just a small whimper.

"Why don't you go back to bed and relax? Forget that this has happened. No harm has been done – you'll be fine."

He kissed her forehead and rubbed her arms in reassurance, then stood to one side to allow Clara access to the stairs behind him. She smiled sweetly as best she could, then slowly retreated up the stairs to the comfort of her room.

Doc turned to see Marty's expression to the incident, lifting his eyebrows in a "see what I mean" face. Running his hand through his hair, Marty reluctantly nodded in agreement.

"What are you gonna do?"

By that question, Doc re-approached his friend to explain his thoughts. "That's the thing. I was going to call you just as you arrived to ask if you would help me. I'm planning to use the time machine to travel back to prevent the mugging from ever taking place."

Marty frowned, not expecting Doc to take such a direct approach to the problem. "Use the time machine? Doc, are you sure? Isn't there another way to solve this?"

"We can't take this to the police now, not two days after the mugging occurred. They wouldn't be able to do anything, and besides I don't want Clara to have to deal with such a shock again, not like this."

"Yeah but Doc you're the one who's always telling me that time travel has to be used with caution. I just don't want you to make a mistake – you know, especially if there's another way around this."

Doc nodded to take Marty's point, but his mind was already made up.

Marty soon added: "Why do you need me anyway?"

Doc lifted his head to answer. "I need you as support, in case something _does_ go wrong. I'm not sure how to handle this…alone."

Marty understood. Doc needed a shoulder to support him from time to time himself, though Marty often forgot because he considered Doc the stronger of the two. Marty nodded, folding his arms and rubbing them anxiously.

"Right!" Doc exclaimed, taking Marty's nodding to be a sign he was willing to help him. "Let's go!"

Marty looked almost horrified. "What, _now_?"

"Yep."

"Hold on Doc, what's the hurry? Don't you need someone to look after Jules and Verne?"

Doc whipped his head around as he led the way to the back door. "Why not? I want to get this over with as soon as possible. And we shouldn't be that long. You keep forgetting that we can come back to the same moment in time we left! You're not thinking -"

"- fourth-dimensionally. I know, I know - I keep forgetting about that."

The duo quickly made their way to the back of the house, to the lab where the time machine was kept. The machine was unmistakeable. It was the very same time train that Doc had used to visit Marty only the year before, to introduce his family and to say his goodbyes. It had also returned him to the twentieth century with his family.

Doc manoeuvred himself to the door, and in a graceful style opened the door to access the interior of the machine. It still amazed Marty how magnificent it all looked.

"Come on then, climb aboard!" Doc called out from inside. Marty climbed the stairs until he reached the metallic floor of the train. Towards the front lay a mass of circuits and dials reading all sorts of data, along with numerous wires connecting them all together. At the opposite end sat the seating for the extra "travellers", whilst a single swivel chair sat before the time circuits for the driver – or rather, for Doc.

With a soft grinding of mechanisms the door closed to, enclosing the two time travellers. With a push of a button the control panels and displays roared to life, showing the current time and date along with the destination time Doc entered via the keypad.

"I gotta admit, Doc, this is roomier that the DeLorean ever was!" Marty admired, stretching out on the red seat behind to emphasise his point. He sat back ready for the ride as the machine lifted up out of the barn into the morning sky. Within a few seconds the train had disappeared from sight.


	3. Part 1c: One Man's Past

**Disclaimer:** none of these characters belong to me, except any that don't appear in the films. Enjoy!

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**Part 1: iii) One Man's Past, Another Man's Tomorrow**

_Saturday, 26th July 1986  
__10:06 a.m.  
__Brown residence_

The sonic booms clapped loudly in the blue sky of Saturday morning. Such fortissimo created rumbles of the echoes as the train entered the new time zone. For Doc time travel was always too loud.

With accuracy Doc glided the train over his home, and gradually lowered the giant monster to the lawn at the back. Yet for it's size, the machine lowered effortlessly without creating too much noise.

The door opened smoothly, allowing fresh morning sunshine to enter the cabin, welcoming the travellers.

"All right! Let's go!" Doc called to his young companion, who remained apprehensive behind.

"Doc? You're just gonna leave the time train here? What if someone sees it?"

Doc turned towards the source of the question, the half smile never leaving his face. "It'll be safe. As soon as the door shuts it locks, so nobody can get in without the key and password. You don't think I don't know what young boys can be like when left to their own devices, do you?" Doc gave a knowing look in Marty's direction.

Marty's face brandished a look of pain for the comment, before realising that Doc was referring to his two young boys as well. He guessed Doc's analysis held some truth after all.

"Besides," Doc continued, "Jules and Verne will be out for the day. They're sleeping over till Sunday at a friend's house for their birthday."

Doc returned his concentration to the next stage of his plan. That's when his walked stopped abruptly as the realisation hit him.

"Great Scott! How could I be so careless?!"

Marty rushed to his side in concern, thinking he had seen something unexpected. "What is it?"

Doc's panicked face glanced over at Marty, as he admitted, "I forgot the van wasn't here. I've taken it, to the conference."

Marty nodded in thought, then hurriedly added "We'll have to take my truck then, over at my house. Do you think we'll have time to catch up with Clara?"

"She's already left. She told me the mugging happened at about quarter past eleven, give or take a few minutes." He was already starting to jog towards the front gates on the driveway, heading in the direction of Marty's home. "Are you sure your truck's there? You don't use it at all today, do you?"

"Certain. I'm in all day. No one will notice it's gone."

"Great!" Doc exclaimed, his speed increasing tenfold with every stride. Quickly they headed towards the end of the street, towards Lion's Estates.

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_Saturday, 26th July 1986  
__10:29 a.m._

Over twenty minutes later, and the estate came into view. By now the lactic acid in both Doc and Marty's muscles was taking effect, causing cramps and aches in their legs and arms. Only just as they arrived outside the McFly's home did they stop to allow oxygen into their bodies.

Both doubled over to try and regain their breath. But Doc didn't hold his posture. His over-active mind began thinking things through too much again, as he straightened his back in haste.

He turned in Marty's direction – who remained doubled over – to ask, "It's no good. You need to get your keys from inside, don't you?"

Marty's smile was revealed as he straightened himself up. "No probs! I came over to your house in my truck. I've still got the keys in my pocket, here." Marty's hand removed the very keys from his jean pocket. He almost thought Doc was going to kiss him from the look in his eyes!

"Let's go then!! We have to find Clara!" Doc cried with such animated enthusiasm it was unreal. The scientist Marty remembered from his previous travels to the Old West and to the future was still there, no matter how long it had been since his last adventure.

The duo rushed into the garage to where the black Toyota truck was housed. They quickly got in – Marty at the driver's side, the key in the ignition so fast it was almost like lightning.

"Where are we heading to first, Doc?"

"Over to the clock tower. If we're lucky we'll meet Clara there before she gets to the Assembly of Christ Church."

"That's where…"

"Yep." Doc's reply was simple and straight to the point. That was all it needed to be as they set off after Clara.

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_Saturday, 26th July 1986  
__10:49 a.m._

Doc's fingers began to tap out an even rhythm on the dashboard as his eyes scanned the crowds for Clara. Marty was driving slowly along the curb past the infamous clock tower, heading towards the main part of town where the bank was located. There was no sign of Clara.

"Where is she?" Doc mumbled to himself; a mixture of impatience and anxiousness evident on his brow. Marty looked on his side, but she was nowhere to be seen. The town was busy on a Saturday morning. Plenty of people were out today, taking in any bargains there were to offer, as well as the opportunity to meet with their friends. But Clara was not amongst them.

Finally Doc's patience emptied out, as he opened the passenger-side door onto the street. Marty caught his exit in the corner of his eye, not allowing it to go unnoticed.

"Hey Doc! Where're ya goin'?"

Doc peered in through the passenger window. "I'm going to find Clara. I might have a better chance on foot finding her in this crowd. Wait here and keep an eye out for her, in case I miss her."

"Sure thing." Marty responded, allowing the engine to rest. Marty sighed softly to himself as Doc made his way through the morning crowd.

Doc scanned the horizon for any trace of his wife. Standing on tiptoe, he tried to peer above the heads of the mass of people clouding his path. But this aided in no way – until he turned to his left towards the shop windows.

She was there, clear as day, peering into one of the shops. She was blissfully unaware of the panic she had stirred up in what seemed to be a quick shopping trip in downtown Hill Valley. Doc instantly began to make his way through the crowd, pushing against the flow of people who were unaware of the scientist's intentions.

"Clara!" Doc cried to her, trying to get her attention as he neared her. She heard him the first time, and instantly recognised the voice.

Searching the crowd long and hard she soon caught a glimpse of Doc heading in her direction. She smiled with delight at the sight of him, and began to move in his direction.

"Emmett! What are you doing here? I thought you were at the conference." They hugged in greeting, before Doc pulled her away to look at her from arm's length. Her expression turned to worry at his apprehension to hug her. "What is it? What's wro -"

"Nothing! Nothing. I…I just thought you might like a lift to the bank, that's all!"

Clara remained focused on his eyes.

"Why aren't you at the conference?"

"Er…It was cancelled. Besides I can always go next year. I wanted to stay at home, with you." Doc put on his best smile, trying to hide the relief of finding her as much as he could. "I thought since the boys were away we might have the night together. Have a meal, go out and see a film – if you like." The story sounded patchy as Doc tried to piece it together, fading a little at the end.

Softly placing his arm around her shoulder, Doc led her to where Marty was waiting for them. She still didn't seemed convinced, but in her mind she didn't see any reason for why her husband would be behaving oddly.

"I suppose I could do with an evening out somewhere," Clara agreed. "But you didn't have to give up the conference for me. We could have arranged this next weekend."

The truck easily came into view as the sun reflected off the shiny metal exterior. Clara squinted to see the driver, fully expecting to see it was Marty. It was his truck after all.

"Marty?" Clara enquired as she peered in through the passenger window.

Marty nodded in response, waving his hand in welcome as he replied, "Hey Clara."

"Emmett, what is going on? It doesn't take two of you to offer to take me to the bank. Is something wrong?"

Doc shook his head promptly, trying his best to look natural with the whole scenario. "Nothing's wrong…erm…"

"The van broke down. Doc called me an' asked if I could give you guys a lift." Marty improvised.

"Is this why you didn't go to the conference?" Clara looked back at Doc, expecting this to be the answer. For Doc it acted as a means of an excuse he had failed to think of. He quickly nodded.

Clara smiled softly, knowing Doc would never let anything come in the way of his plans if he could help it. "Why didn't you tell me? Of course you can drop me off at the bank." Doc almost let out a huge sigh of relief when Clara removed all doubt as to why he was here.

Clara pulled herself into the truck. Doc followed, closing the door behind him. Once all the passengers were safely in Marty pulled away from the curb, pushing along in the direction of the Central Bank of California.


	4. Part 1d: Blood Money

This is the conclusion to the first part of the story(not even I know how long this story's gonna be!). There'll be more soon, and as ever feedback is really appreciated. Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed any of my stories, it means a lot.

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**Part 1: iv) Blood Money**

_Saturday, 26th July 1986  
__11:13 a.m.  
__Central Bank of California_

They had almost arrived at the bank when the police car suddenly came into view. Marty calmly pulled over to the side to allow them to pass, which they did with a blazing of sirens and flashing lights. The car headed off in the opposite direction - the sirens fading into the distance.

From the truck's interior the smooth white stone building shone effortlessly; the marble of the building's exterior sparkling as it caught the sunlight, reflecting all the separate colours like a rainbow. The Toyota effortlessly picked up the multicoloured reflections like a mirror; the sun was so bright.

Doc didn't even wait for Marty to bring the truck to a complete halt before opening the door and leaping out onto the sidewalk. Clara's concern had returned during the journey, refusing to let her mind ease at why things were playing out like they were. But strangely enough, she was rather glad Doc was here. She felt somewhat…safer, more secure in herself. Not because it was her first time visiting a bank, no. She didn't know why, but everything seemed as though they were going to be all right.

Clara made her way onto the sidewalk with a little assistance from Doc. Doc lifted his head to see where Marty was, but noticed the young man had remained in the driver's seat, almost ready to take off again.

"Marty? Aren't you coming in with us?" Doc almost expected him to want to tag along just as he often did. But not this time.

"Nah. I'm not needed in there. You go ahead, I'll wait in here."

"OK, if you're sure. We should only be a few minutes." With that the door closed firmly shut. The vehicle sat in almost complete silence; the engine ticking over as it cooled showed the only signs of life in the vehicle.

Making their way to the entrance, Doc took one last look around at the truck, sceptical as always. His focus returned forwards as he pushed open one of the heavy glass doors leading into the bank, holding it open to allow Clara to pass through.

Marty watched as the couple entered, resting his elbow on the open window. Though it wasn't a hot day it was warm enough to test anybody's patience, including Marty's own. He hoped they wouldn't be long, anyway.

Marty allowed his gaze to wander the street ahead of him, taking in all the rich scenery of Hill Valley - just as he had done while Doc had left the truck to find Clara less than an hour before. The row of shops down the opposite side of the street, passed by couples walking hand in hand as they window-shopped; a man riding by on a bicycle, trying to pass the rows of cars lining the street. Just in front a car was leaving its parking space, vacating a spot on the side for another car to take its place.

Just as Marty watched the car exit along the road another car entered his vision travelling in his direction. The car soon reached the black Toyota four-by-four, blocking Marty's view of the sidewalk as it parked up by the curb. With a small jolt the car stopped dead, opening a clear view of the driver and the passengers inside as it faced Marty.

Squinting a little from the reflected light from the windscreen, Marty could see three stubbornly looking men, with jackets and coats too warm for the weather they were in. He mentally winced at seeing their attire, only being able to imagine how hot they must have felt in those coats.

None of the car's occupants noticed Marty staring at them straight away. They were busily searching through boxes and cases for items they wanted, placing them inside their coats, hidden from view. At one point the passenger in the front stopped in his tracks to show his annoyance with his friend in the back, obviously wanting to say his piece in the open to show his dominance. Marty smirked a little – they seemed determined to prepare for something.

It was only during this small argument between the two passengers that the driver eventually looked up to catch Marty spying on them. He froze instantly, not knowing what to do, like he had been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar, red-handed. At his sudden pause the man beside him – bearing the most stubble of all three of them – turned in confusion to look at his friend, following his gaze through the windscreen towards Marty. Marty's eyes almost froze like the driver's. The man's stare almost seemed deadly – a stare that could kill anyone within ten paces – and he was giving it to Marty with ease.

Almost feeling as though he was intruding on someone's private affairs, Marty unlocked his attention from the three men in front and instead focused it on to the watch on his wrist.

11:33 a.m.

_Geez, how long is Doc gonna be?_ Marty thought to himself, watching time tick by as the minutes on his watch increased.

11:34 a.m.

Giving a huge sigh of impatience, he decided to go in and see what the hold-up was. Even Biff gave faster service than this, including when he remembered to do two coats of wax! Besides, the gentlemen ahead of him gave no intention of letting up their stares whilst he was looking in on whatever it was they were doing.

Locking the door behind him, the musician pushed his hands into his jean pockets and eased his way towards the bank doors. From the outside it was hard to see through the glass - the sunlight creating reflections of the street behind, including Marty's own reflection.

He entered the bank and walked into the foyer, looking up briefly to catch a surveillance tape playing on a small television, suspended high above. In grainy black and white Marty could make out the young woman entering the bank behind him, along with his own image staring back at him. He watched as she passed him and headed towards the counter, passing Clara on the way, in her unmistakeable white shirt and plain blue jeans. She was still stuck in the queue – nevertheless only two away from being served – with Doc right beside her, talking about something between themselves as the next in line moved towards the counter to be served.

Marty managed to catch Doc's attention with a quick wave of his hand, pointing to his watch and shrugging his shoulders to ask in sign language how long they were going to be.

Doc frowned for a second before the message was understood. His only response was a shoulder shrug for "unknown", which only earned him an annoyed sigh from Marty.

But neither of them could anticipate what was to happen next, until it was too late. In a split second the doors flew open, opening access to two burly men dressed in big heavy jackets and wielding big heavy guns. Sub-machine guns, from what they appeared.

Immediately the tallest of the duo began barking out orders to everyone within hearing range. His friend, from behind him, began dancing towards the service counter, making sure his gun was on display to show he meant business. The orders were kept simple: hands in the air; lie on the floor.

At first only a few obeyed, laying the front of their bodies on the cold, hard floor. Many were shaking from shock rather than the cold floor. Many others remained standing with their hands held high, forcing the orders to be repeated again but with increased tension.

Doc and Clara had their hands in the air in no time. Though Doc kept calm, Clara was visibly shaking. As softly as he could Doc took her hand into his, knowing without his guidance Clara's fear would render her motionless. Quickly, but calmly, Doc guided her towards the floor, not taking his eyes from the main gunman for one second. He placed his body over hers as much as he could without creating too much motion, protecting her closely whilst remaining alert.

As they reached the floor Doc threw his eyes over to where Marty was. Surprisingly, the young man remained calm, doing as he was told without question. That was the best thing he could do.

Marty's eyes danced around the room as the smaller gunman – the one with the ego-problem, thinking this was all a big joke – marched up to the counter, pulled out a large black duffle bag and bellowed for all of the money to be placed in the bag immediately. The poor woman behind the counter couldn't control herself as she did as ordered, crying until her mascara stained her face with rivers of black oil.

Marty noticed that the larger of the two robbers seemed to hold more control of the situation, telling his sidekick exactly what to do and leaving him to do all the work. It was only while the money was being collected that Marty noticed an office in the back, partly darkened by the shadows towards the back of the building. He hadn't noticed the trivial detail, until a small reflection of light had caught his eye. A small glint of light flashed for a brief second as the glass in the office door caught the sunlight. The door opened gently. From where he was Marty couldn't see whom it was who entered the office. But whoever it was, they hadn't been spotted by the bank thieves.

As quietly as it had opened the door closed to, hiding the occupant of the room from sight of those in the main body of the building. Marty let out a huge mental sigh, relieved that they had made it without being seen. These robbers were in no mood to deal with anyone trying to raise the alarm, without question. They were here to pick up only one thing, and the sooner they had done that the better.

"All right, listen up!" The leader shouted. His low, military-like tone came through muffled from under his balaclava, but that didn't stop everyone from listening. "Me and my friend here are glad to see that you can all follow orders well. So, for your next orders, I want you to remain where you are with your eyes facing the ground. I see anyone lift them to take a look –" He briefly paused to lift his gun into the air, making his assertions very clear to all who could see. "- and you'll be seein' a bullet aimin' for ya head! Got it?" He didn't need a reply. Everybody turned their eyes to the ground, not even risking chancing a look at the activities going on around them.

The leader marched to the counter, his impatience growing by the second. "What's taking so long?" he whispered menacingly to the assistant, giving her the evil stare from under his mask. "We haven't got all day, ya know. Case you haven't noticed we're in a little bit of a hurry."

With this the assistant shook even more, as panic began to set in. She worked as fast as she could go, moving from counter to counter to collect the funds. The smaller robber followed her, keeping his weapon trained on her to be sure she kept going. The leader casually stepped away, towards the opposite side of the building, taking a quick glance through the huge windows that gave such a glamorous view of the street. Beside the bank lay a small open patch of grass, with a few trees around the border – an idea the mayor had had to try and increase the scenery of Hill Valley, to make it more pleasant. It did the town no favours.

Both Marty and Doc decided to risk a glance up at the robbers. They noticed each other's gaze rise, asking the same questions to each other as they searched each other's eyes for answers. Marty looked up at the robber nearest to him, the ringleader, but quickly reverted his gaze back to the floor as the robber started to turn and scan his surroundings. He took note of Marty's figure lay near to the door, but didn't consider him for very long.

The money was almost ready. Eventually moving to the last desk, the cashier suddenly froze in horror from what her senses began to pick up. Both bank robbers turned their head towards the commotion they could hear. Both Doc and Marty tried to turn to look towards the door, where they could hear sirens in close range.

The police were on their way.

"What the hell…?" the leader mumbled to himself, not knowing how the cops could get there so quickly. Immediately he turned and ran to his accomplice, the panic in his stride instantly recognisable. "Come on, let's get outta here!"

His friend took little attention, instead turning to the frightened woman stood behind the counter. "You! You called the cops! The damn cops! I told you not to try anything!" She jumped with fright, shaking even more as he raised his gun in a rash move to hit her. But he was stopped in his tracks.

"No, you idiot! Leave her! Grab the money and let's go!"

He did as he was ordered, grabbing the rucksack under his arm and following his friend to the front entrance. He almost ran into his friend, not realising he had come to a sudden stop before the door.

"The cops! The cops are here! Kyle's gone! The woodenhead's left us in it!" The welling anger in his voice was an obvious sign that things were not going to plan.

Marty saw his opportunity to crawl over to where Doc and Clara still lay. His trainers squeaked as they slid on the marble floor. His hands left sweaty imprints on the floor as he crept over to his friend's side.

"Marty, are you crazy!" Doc exclaimed as loud as he could without being caught. "Get back over there before they see you!"

"Relax, Doc. They're too worried about the police outside rather than what we're doing." Marty turned to check where the robbers were. They were still looking through the doors, trying to figure a way out.

"Got any ideas, Doc?"

"No, not yet. It's best we stay low and do as they say. They're irritable, and we don't want to test how they can handle a gun."

Marty nodded, turning again to see the two robbers pull back from the doors. The cops outside knelt behind the bonnets of the parked vehicles, guns drawn and pointing to the doors. A single car stood outside with only two officers in attendance, though the robbers didn't realise this. The darkened glass of the doors masked this detail.

The leader of the two pulled off his balaclava, revealing his stubble face and dark eyes. His hair was damp with sweat, with beads of moisture running down his cheeks onto his jacket.

His friend did the same, giving him an odd look of not understanding why his partner had revealed his identity.

"What are we gonna do now, boss?" He asked impatiently, turning to see someone lift their head to get a better look at the situation. "Hey! Eyes down, towards the ground. Now!"

As he said this he felt a hand take hold of his arm. "It doesn't matter, now. Let it go."

"Let it go?!? Hey, I'm not the one who screwed up here, OK!" The smaller man responded, pulling his arm free of the other man's grasp.

"What the hell are you talking about? _You_ were the one who was taking so long to get the money!" Things were beginning to heat up between the two men, making Doc more nervous as to the possible consequences. More sirens sounded outside as more police officers made their way towards the scene, their cars screeching to a halt just feet from the entrance. Movement outside grew as officers moved into position

"_I_ was taking so long? Hey, blame the _slut_ over there with the black eyes. She must've called the cops on us!" With that he started to make his way over to where the young woman stood, her eyes still black from where her mascara had run. "It _was_ you wasn't it? Couldn't resist tryin' to be the hero round here! I think I'll enjoy busting your skull open right now!"

"That's enough, Carl!"

Carl paused in what he was doing. He had tried to drag the woman over the counter as far as he could, in order to use his gun on her. At the sound of his name he stopped, letting her blouse free from his grasp. Turning towards his boss he checked his gun was properly loaded and ready to fire, before heading towards the source of his problem.

"We agreed, no names Reilly," Carl whispered to his mate. "We agreed to keep names out of it. We also agreed to keep the hoods on!" This last sentence was greeted with fury as Carl threw down his balaclava in disgust. Reilly watched and said nothing, showing no feeling of panic or fear in his face anymore. What fear had been there had disappeared, only to be replaced with his cold, calculating stare.

Carl also noticed this, and began to back off when Reilly refused to answer. He dreaded that his small explosion of anger could possibly have ended his life.

Instead, though, of pulling his weapon close, ready to use it, Reilly allowed his gun to fall to the floor. Carl watched in confusion, not knowing what to expect. This hadn't been part of the plan…

Before anybody could comprehend what was going on Reilly took hold of his jacket and pulled down the zip to reveal his chest and waist. Strapped around his waist, leading up to a small, compact switch was a homemade explosive device – concealed well under the jacket from even his accomplice's eyes.

"Jesus, Reilly! Are you crazy!?! You'll blow us all to kingdom come!"

"That's the idea, _Carl_," Reilly calmly replied, taking the shock in from everyone's faces as they saw just exactly what Carl had seen.

"No! Don't do it! Please!" A man called from behind where Doc and Clara lay. He mirrored everybody's thoughts exactly.

"Shut up!" Reilly called, wanting in no way to be persuaded otherwise.

"And when, exactly, were you gonna let us in on this, Reilly?" Carl asked sarcastically, pointing to the device. "You're…you're not gonna use it, are you? I mean - it's just to scare the police, right? Reilly?"

Reilly refused to respond, taking a deep sigh and walking slowly to the centre of the building, making sure everyone could see him.

"I'm not going back, Carl. I won't let them take me again. You know they'll kill me this time if I set foot back in prison." Reilly turned to view Carl's response. Carl shook his head in disbelief, the panic beginning to set in as the scale of the situation hit him hard. He ran to his friend to beg with him.

"Please, Reilly. We can figure this out. We can still escape. Yeah, we can find some other way. It doesn't have to come to this." It was the best Carl could do. He'd never had to beg for his life before.

Just as Reilly was about to back down on his idea his attention was caught elsewhere. Commotion at the front doors caused him to look up to see the police, ready to charge in with weapons drawn.

That was when Doc realised what was about to happen. _They don't know! They don't know about the bomb!!_ He mentally screamed to himself.

He quickly pounced to his feet in an attempt to signal to the SWAT team to stop them from entering. But it was too late. With one swift action Reilly lowered his hand to the switch on his chest. The switch clicked into place, and the connection was made…

From outside, all that could be seen was flying glass as the explosion took hold. Glass fell everywhere, followed by debris of all kinds – stone, paper, plastic; dust was sprayed far across the street like a volcanic eruption, only stopping when it collided with the surrounding buildings and vehicles.

People dived for cover as the blast ripped through the building. Officers watched as the windscreens in their cars exploded, and as stone and glass landed on top of the twisted metal frames of cars parked too near to the bank – or what now remained of it.

Within a matter of seconds the worst of the explosion had ended, leaving behind only the traces of fire inside, and the skeleton of what used to be the Central Bank of California.


	5. Part 2a: Such A Perfect Day

**Disclaimer:** I love Back to the Future. I love to write fanfic for it. But I'll never own it…sniff

Well, this is the beginning of the second part. Enjoy!

**Part 2: i) Such A Perfect Day**

_Monday, 28th July 1986  
__8:57 a.m.  
__Brown residence_

Doc's hand dropped beside his head, causing him to stir. At first his hearing returned, only to be met with his soft, relaxed breathing. Gradually opening his eyes he winced as the fresh morning light stunned and blinded him momentarily. The effect did not last, as Doc lifted his hand to wipe the sleep out of his eyes.

He allowed his eyes to focus on the ceiling above him, until the blur had disappeared. He turned to read the clock on his desk – the two silver hands read 8:58 a.m.

_Ooh, so early already! _Doc thought to himself. The night had seemed to fly by so fast. He still felt exhausted from the journey he had made to Los Angeles for a science conference concerning the possibility of time travel. It still amazed him to think that all these scientists were debating the theories and possibilities surrounding the concept, whilst in the very same room he himself had answered the puzzle by inventing the world's first time machine. And they never even knew.

The very thought brought a smile to his face, as he turned to face his dear wife lying in the bed beside him.

Only she wasn't there.

Brief concern washed across Doc's face, before rationalizing to himself that she must have wanted to start the day early. _There's nothing wrong with getting up at the crack of dawn_, he told himself.

No longer feeling deprived of rest Doc decided to rise for the day ahead. He dressed quickly and headed for the stairs to find his beloved wife and children. Walking past his son's rooms Doc noted one of the beds was not occupied. Verne lay fast asleep, far away in his own curious world. Jules was active already at this time, which surprised even Doc given that Jules enjoyed his lie-ins even more than Verne.

Almost as he reached the bottom of the stairs Doc heard a loud crash as dishes and pans smashed on the floor. Clara could be heard cursing herself for being so seemingly clumsy at her mistake, as she tried to clear the mess before Doc could find out. Rounding the corner, Clara could be seen busying herself about the room, while Jules occupied the living room to the left of the hall. His Walkman was at full volume – the heavy bass guitar and drums quietly audible from every room on the ground floor, blasting through the headphones into the juvenile's ears.

Doc made his way into the kitchen, to find Clara sweeping the floor, tidying away the remnants of the dish that had fallen. She seemed angry with herself, but also very nervous as she looked up and noticed her spouse for the first time. Her startled expression told him she was pleasantly surprised.

"Oh, you frightened me! Good morning Emmett." But she didn't stop for long. If anything, Doc's presence only speeded her up, making her more anxious to tidy the floor even quicker.

Her surprise had held more meaning than a small shock from her husband. Her expression held more fear than Doc could place. He began to worry instantly, hoping he hadn't over-stepped the mark unknowingly, somehow.

"Clara, what's wrong?" he asked as calmly as he could compose himself. She lowered her head and moved herself away from him. She didn't want to share her problems.

"Nothing! What…whatever gave you that idea?"

"I don't know – you seem to be nervous, as though something is bothering you."

"Nothing is bothering me, dear. You just gave me a little scare, that's all!" She smiled as sweetly as she could, brushing past him to put away the broom. But Doc didn't accept it, and she knew. Almost immediately the smile fell, and Clara's mind finally began to relent to Doc's concerns.

Doc took hold of her hand and led her to the table – the usual place where problems would be shared and solved if needed. He smiled, and softly told her: "You know you can tell me anything – I'll always be here for you, no matter what the situation may be."

Clara looked into his sincere eyes, and proceeded to prepare herself to share her problem.

"Well…it happened two days ago – on Saturday – while I was in town on my way to the bank," she began slowly. "I was minding my own business, really. I had nothing to do but to go to the bank and deposit some money into the account…"

That's when Clara's nerves caved in to demand. She began to cry uncontrollably, letting the fears and anxieties she had kept inside release themselves into several fits of emotion. She reached into her pocket to take hold of her handkerchief, desperately trying to wipe away her tears. Doc held her hand reassuringly.

"I was heading away from the market…when a couple of teenagers – I don't know, about 17 or 18 – walked up to me and asked me for some change. I remembered your advice, Emmett, and so I told them I had none. That's when…when they attacked me."

The colour drained from Doc's expression, and Clara's face crumbled into her hands. "They stole my handbag…and everything in it. I only had…about fifty dollars with me and…"

"Shh, it's OK," Doc calmly reassured her. She began to cry again; Doc felt helpless inside to help her. "Everything will be fine. The police will handle the matter."

Clara lifted her head to the last remark. She seemed to grow fearful again, like a child afraid their parents will discover their hidden secret.

"I only…wish they could," Clara replied. "I didn't tell the police. I was too frightened to contact them – I didn't know what to do. Nobody saw it happen…I don't think. I was just too scared…"

Doc's expression fell as he realised just why she felt afraid. She was afraid he would be upset with her for not seeking help. She was a headstrong woman, able to deal with any situation fate threw at her. But in such a foreign home as the twentieth century she felt out of place, trying to adjust to her new life.

"I see." Doc moved back in thought, trying to decide the best course of action to help his wife. His most obvious choice was his most dreaded; knowing full well any time travel for personal gain never went according to plan. But in this case, Doc was prepared to make an exception.

"What are you thinking?" Clara asked nervously, unsure as to what Doc's actions were to be. Doc noticed her reaction, and calmly stood to move over to her. He gently placed his arms around her, comforting her as best he could. She turned and embraced him, burying her face in his shoulder to hide herself away. They remained like this for several minutes, until Clara felt much calmer.

"It's all right, don't worry. Everything will be fine, I _promise_." Doc looked straight into her eyes, sincere with his words. She smiled – only this time, it was a genuine smile of love and gratitude that told him "thank you".

In the living room Jules finally moved from his spot on the couch. Walking through into the kitchen he caught a glimpse of his mother's tear-stricken face and his father at her side. He slipped the headphones off his ears.

"Mom, you all right?" came the young boy's question.

Clara nodded her head in reply, not wishing to upset her son as well. "Of course I am. Nothing to worry about." She smiled to let him know she was well.

Jules took the signal to leave, having found an apple to snack on while he listened to his music. He strode through the hall back into the den, preparing himself to leap over the back of the couch when a knock came from the door. Without thinking Jules made his way over to the front door, stopping his Walkman once again to save the power in his batteries.

With one swift click the door was unlocked, and was pulled back to reveal the very distinct physique of one Marty McFly.

Doc had heard the knock on the door just as Jules had, but hadn't been as quick to respond. Leaving Clara to sort out her thoughts, he rushed over to answer the door – only to find Jules had gotten there first. His heightened emotions over Clara's distress had yet to quieten down - something that became evident in his voiced annoyance at his eldest son.

"Jules, what have I told you about answering the door on your own?"

Jules noticed the frightened edge to his father's question, along with annoyance he rarely encountered. Immediately the long speeches by Doc of remaining safe came flooding to Jules – about how not to go out alone after a certain time, how to activate the alarm when locking the door, and how not to answer the door without his father's presence.

The sulk appeared almost right away, as Jules decided the only safe and quiet place in the house would be in his bedroom. He backed away, to the comfort of his own haven.

Marty watched as the young boy ran up the stairs. Doc watched also, before returning his attention to his young friend.

His irritated interaction with Jules had only made him feel worse inside, as though he had let everybody down. Smiling to Marty he hoped he could hide some of the pain, but of course that never worked. Marty knew him too well.

"Hey Doc. Everything all right?"

Not wanting to feel as though he was sharing his problems out on the front door step Doc gestured Marty to enter, closing the door behind as the teen entered.

Marty changed his posture to a firm one, folding his arms to ask; "Doc, what's wrong?"

Doc was about to answer the question when he saw movement from the corner of his eye. Clara shifted in her seat in the kitchen, still trying to calm herself down. Doc wanted to give her some time to herself, and so quickly moved over to pull the kitchen door to. Marty watched him with mixed reactions.

Doc returned sharply, ready to answer the question. But Marty interrupted. "Doc, you haven't had a fight with Clara, have you?"

Doc frowned, not expecting that response, but quickly rationalised why such a thought might have occurred. "A fight? No, of course not! No, no – you've got the wrong idea. She's upset because of an incident that happened on Saturday, while I was away at the conference."

Doc turned to look at the kitchen door again, before deciding that it was best if he and Marty went into the den to talk. He didn't think Clara wanted to listen to the story again, if she could overhear them.

"Clara explained to me this morning that she had been mugged on the way to the bank, on Saturday." Doc began. "She's very upset about it, especially since the police were not notified of the situation."

Marty shook his head in disbelief, feeling annoyed that such a thing could happen in a small town like Hill Valley. "She was acting rather…peculiar, this morning. I asked her what was wrong, and she explained everything."

Doc felt uneasy about the whole situation. He was still having trouble taking it all in.

"Is Clara all right though? I mean, she wasn't hurt physically at all, was she?" Marty asked in concern. Doc shook his head in reply.

"No, they just took the money, thank heavens."

Doc was about to continue, until the soft creak of the kitchen door opening behind him interrupted his concentration. He raised a finger to his lips, signaling to Marty not to say anything. Quickly Doc turned to find his wife leaving the kitchen. She seemed more settled internally, but still shocked at finally realising just what she had been through. She looked up to see Doc before her, and found herself walking to him once again for comfort. Doc hugged her tightly.

"It's all right Clara, everything will be fine. Why don't you go back up to bed, and put this whole thing out of your mind? You'll feel much better if you try to relax."

Clara nodded in response, feeling exhausted from her emotional outburst. She smiled sweetly to him, grateful for having such a caring husband to turn to in such times as these. That was only one of many reasons why she loved him so much. Carefully she made her way up the stairs and out of view of the two men, as they continued to talk.

Clara hadn't even noticed Marty as she had come from the kitchen – a subtle fact Marty noticed himself. Doc turned to his friend to judge his reaction; Marty nodded in agreement.

"So, what are you gonna do?"

Doc gave the matter one last think-over, before offering his friend the plan. "I was about to call you when you arrived, to ask if you could assist me. My plan is to use the time machine to intercept Clara in town before the mugging takes place, so as to prevent it from ever happening." Doc studied Marty's features carefully. "But…you don't think so."

"I don't know…it just doesn't seem like you to jump to using the time machine. Are you sure there's no other way you can think of Doc?"

Doc firmly shook his head. "No. We can't take this to the police now, not at least since two days have passed when the mugging occurred. They would be powerless to do anything, or much if anything at all. I also don't want to place Clara in such a stressful situation. She found it difficult enough to tell _me_ about the incident."

Marty nodded, still a little unsure but feeling that Doc knew what he was doing. "What do you need me for then?"

Doc was much slower to answer this question. "I…I need your support. You know, assistance. I always like to keep my mind at ease knowing I have back up should anything go wrong."

Marty smiled, a tinge of confidence entering the grin. Doc saw this and took the signal to leave, eager to get the task dealt with as soon as possible. "Right! Come on then, let's go!"

"What, now?" Marty asked, not expecting to leave so soon.

"Yep." Doc replied, already heading for the door.

"But Doc, don't you need someone to look after Jules and Verne?"

Doc grinned as he continued to the back of the house. "Marty, you're not thinking ahead! We'll only be gone a couple of minutes, maximum. Jules and Verne will be fine! Come on!"

"Guess I keep forgetting about that," Marty remarked, to himself more than for anyone else to hear.

Quickly the pair manoeuvred round to the lab where the time machine was kept. Still in perfect working order, the time machine stood tall within the walls of the laboratory, covered with a thin sheet to protect it. Doc was still proud of his invention, especially with the train since the tools he had used to build it with were limiting compared to his 1985 tools. They had seemed primitive somehow, but had been adequate.

Ahead of Marty Doc made his way to the door of the train, activating it by means of a small electronic keypad hidden in his pocket. Doc's own creation, no doubt. Keying in the required code the door opened effortlessly, grinding to a halt just above the concrete floor. Grabbing the small handrail Doc pulled himself up the great steps into the time train, only turning to face Marty once he had arrived in the train's interior. "Come on then, Marty!" Doc exclaimed, almost looking excited about the situation.

Marty hauled himself into the train and seated himself behind Doc, looking in awe around the roomy interior and taking note of the differences it held compared to the DeLorean. He had never travelled in the train before, and especially not a train of such an age.

"All set?" Doc asked, nodding towards the seat belts he had installed. Marty took heed and fastened himself in. He didn't want to take any particular risk, especially in a flying time train.

"All set, Doc." Marty replied. With this Doc carefully lifted the train out of the lab, manoeuvring it upwards into the sky. Within three short blasts it had defied both gravity and the time barrier once again.


	6. Part 2b: 48 Hours Previous

**Disclaimer:** Marty, Doc and Clara are not mine, but the bank robbers are (unfortunate, I know) : P Here's chapter 6!

As a side note, these chapters are up on my website if you want to check my profile. I'm putting up the rest of Part 2, since Part 3 is not far away. Go me!

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**Part 2: ii) 48 Hours Previous**

_Saturday, 26th July 1986  
__10:06 a.m.  
__Brown residence_

Three loud claps later and the train appeared above Doc's family home, only 48 hours earlier. With careful co-ordination Doc lowered the machine onto the lawn at the back of the estate, where it could remain out of view of unwanted attention. Since the incident with Biff, Doc took far more precaution as to where he left the time machine. The alternate 1985 he had seen had taken care of that problem.

The two friends exited the train and watched as the steps retracted back, revealing the side of the train once more.

"Right! Let's get on with it then!" Doc called eagerly. Marty followed apprehensively.

"Wait Doc! What about the time machine? D'you think it's safe leaving it out in the open like this?" Marty stopped in his tracks to wait for the answer.

"Don't worry, it's perfectly safe. Nobody can see it there from the street, and besides it's securely locked." Doc increased his pace somewhat to the front of the house. Without turning he added, "I'm not planning on creating another alternate hell again, don't you worry."

The pair made their way towards the front driveway – the _empty_ driveway, Doc noticed as it all suddenly came flooding back as to why it was empty.

"Great Scott!" Doc exclaimed without warning, almost causing Marty to crash into the back of him. Instead the teen avoided the collision and negotiated his way to Doc's side, concerned something had already gone wrong with their plan.

"What is it Doc?"

"The van! I can't believe I'd forgotten the van isn't here!" He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand in disbelief. "I've taken it to the conference, in Los Angeles. Now we'll never reach Clara in time."

Marty almost felt like laughing; time travelling never seemed to go according to plan, and this trip was no exception. He placed his hands in his jean pockets, feeling his truck keys with one hand, realising there was another alternative.

"Hey Doc! I've got the keys to my truck still – we can take that instead!"

Doc turned to look at his young friend, the panic fading away at this new suggestion. "Are you sure? I mean, are you positive you didn't use your truck at all today?"

"Certain. I don't go out at all today - no reason to."

"Great!" Doc called with mild relief, eagerly heading out of the driveway onto the street, Marty only a few steps behind. Hurriedly they headed across to the main road, heading over to 9303 Lion Estates Drive.

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_Saturday, 26th July 1986  
__10:31 a.m._

Almost half an hour later, and at last the duo arrived at their destination; granted, a little exhausted from their unexpected exercise drill. As soon as the house came into view Marty began to slow his running down to a mere jog; Doc had no choice but to follow suit, his age creating an unwanted barrier to running any further.

After taking a minute to rest Doc rose once again to the challenge. Removing the keys from his pocket, Marty made his way to the garage by the side of the house, allowing sunlight to reflect from the shiny black metallic surface of the Toyota four-by-four as the door opened. Doc was the first to rush in and head towards their means of transport. Marty unlocked the truck, granting Doc access as they both seated themselves upon the upholstery.

"OK then Doc, where to?" Marty asked as the engine kicked over steadily.

"She should be in town by now. Make your way over to the clock tower. If we're lucky we'll meet her before she gets to the Assembly of Christ Church."

Marty frowned, recalling the name from somewhere before. "Assembly of Christ Church…isn't that where I crashed when I arrived back from 1955 - the first time?"

"That's the one," Doc replied, as gradually the truck exited the driveway onto the main street.

He only hoped they could find Clara in time.

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_Saturday, 26th July 1986  
__10:52 a.m._

It had seemed like hours since they had left Marty's home to look for Clara. Only ten minutes of searching had passed, yet Doc was beginning to feel they had arrived too late. Nervously he began to tap a steady rhythm on the dashboard with his fingers – no particular rhythm, but one that seemingly reflected the gradual passing of time, edging closer and closer to the fateful time Doc was here to prevent.

Marty had the added task of driving whilst looking on his side for any sign of Clara; one he felt he wasn't near to perfecting any time soon. The silence within the truck was almost unbearable for Marty, not knowing what to do or say in such a situation. He didn't know exactly what the plan was that Doc had in mind, or if there even was a plan set out at all.

Finally, after ten minutes of silent restlessness and impatience Doc opened the door and exited. Startled out of his thoughts, Marty brought the truck to a sudden halt by the curb.

"What is it Doc? Have you found her?"

Doc heard his name called out behind him. The exit had been a little hasty perhaps. "I thought I'd see if I could find her on foot, maybe have a better vantage point. Wait here while I go and have a look." Doc explained, leaving his young friend behind to wait patiently for his return.

"Sure thing." Marty sighed heavily and slumped partly back into his seat, feeling a little useless for not doing anything but wait for Doc to return. He looked through the crowd as far as he could see, recognising one or two faces as friends he knew or had met in the past. He had lost sight of Doc almost as soon as the scientist had left, camouflaged by the many bodies marching past him.

He squinted to expand the distance he could see. Needles and his "mate" from school casually walked past, not noticing Marty in the least. He hadn't seen very much of his arch-nemesis at school since they had almost had the accident with the Rolls Royce – maybe Needles was too apprehensive to try and stand up to the youngest McFly again and risk hurting his pride.

Without thinking Marty started to tap out his own rhythm on the steering wheel; the rhythm of one of Van Halen's many songs he had on tape, almost threadbare with the amount of times it had blasted out on his stereo. Mentally the song was playing back in Marty's head – the place where many of his other favourites were stored.

Needles and his friend had long disappeared into the crowd, not that Marty held any interest as to his whereabouts. Looking at the display on his watch Marty gave out another drawn-out sigh.

10:56 a.m.

_Come on, Doc, _Marty minded, impatiently. He watched the passenger wing mirror for any sign of them, soon to see Doc come into view in its reflection, one arm around Clara as he led her towards the truck. The teen quickly shifted in his seat, ready to drive on as soon as they were ready.

Clara was the first to acknowledge him. "Marty?" she enquired, not understanding why he should be here.

"Hi Clara," Marty replied, waving his hand almost in a salute fashion. Clara stepped back from the window to turn to Doc. Although somewhat quieter than before, Marty could just make out their conversation, though not without leaning towards the passenger window against his seatbelt.

He heard Clara's anxious tone ask what was wrong, followed by an uneasy attempt by Doc to try and concoct a reasonable excuse. When this failed to come, Marty felt he needed to step in.

"Doc called me an' asked if I could give you guys a lift. The van's broken down or somethin'," was the best Marty could do. Clara again turned to Doc, only this time more believability to her voice. She eventually agreed, opening the door and stepping into the vehicle, Doc close behind.

Just as soon as the door was closed the truck moved off, taking the trio to their next destination.


	7. Part 2c: Making History Again

**Disclaimer:** oh the same old story…I don't own the characters.

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**Part 2: iii) Making History…Again**

_Saturday, 26th July 1986  
__11:14 a.m.  
__Central Bank of California_

Weaving in and out of the traffic with accuracy, sirens calling at full volume and flashing lights signalled the police car's attendance. Cars pulled over to one side to allow them to pass, one such vehicle being Marty's black Toyota. With little reduction in speed the emergency car raced past, off into the direction of the town square in no doubt to catch another criminal.

No sooner had it arrived the car had vanished, with only the sirens still reaching the human senses in the far distance. They continued the journey to the bank, where the town was busiest on a Saturday, mainly because of where the majority of the shops in Hill Valley were located.

The handbrake creaked against the upward force Marty applied as he pulled it. The truck remained still as the door opened to allow Doc to exit the vehicle. He turned to offer assistance to Clara as she in turn left the truck. Marty remained where he was, watching as they left, and ready to answer the expected question of why he hadn't moved.

Doc frowned as he leaned in towards the truck's window. "Marty? Aren't you coming with us?" he asked with a little concern, noting the teen's absence of "wanting-to-tag-along" enthusiasm he often held.

"Nah, you go ahead. I'll wait for ya here."

"Sure?" Doc double-checked. Marty simply nodded in reply.

Sighing softly, Doc returned to his wife's side where she had waited for him. She frowned herself when Marty did not follow, but decided not to question the issue further. Slipping past Doc as he held the door open for her, she glided into the foyer of glossy marble floor and gleaming polished surfaces, impeccably cleaned just that morning, setting high standards for the company that owned the building.

Ahead of them stood the long line of counters at which customers could be served. So far the bank appeared to be at its busiest; the long queue weaving in and out, following the trail the rope barrier set out. It looked to be a long wait.

Clara and Doc half-heartedly joined the back of the line - Doc remaining close to Clara's side. He appeared apprehensive and almost uncomfortable as he stood in line. He appeared anxious to leave as soon as he could; his eyes quickly moved across the building to the exit, then back to the queue ahead of them. Clara's touch drew his eyes quickly down to look at his hand under hers. She smiled to try and cease his worry.

"Is everything all right? You seem anxious not to be here."

Doc tightened his grip on her hand almost as if he held her only lifeline. "Of course, everything's just fine." He cleared his throat. "You know I just don't like to wait in long queues, that's all."

"It won't take long – a few minutes at the latest. Just be patient," Clara tried to relax him as best she could. "Are you anxious about Marty, is that it?"

The unexpected question almost caught Doc off-balance. "What?"

"Why he wouldn't come in here with us?"

"No, no. I'm not worried about him, or anything else for that matter. Just the sooner we can sort out our business the sooner we can leave." A deep sigh inhaled, Doc shook his arms to try and relax. They had averted the mugging that Clara originally faced, so now there was no problem. So why did he feel as though that was not the end of the matter?

The line moved along, though at all at the speed Doc wished it would. Still five people stood before them to be served.

Clara turned to him, lifting her hand in gesture of enquiry. "I was thinking…about what you said before. I would love to have a night in, just us two. A quiet night to ourselves where we can be lost in conversation. Almost like the night of the town festival. Do you remember?"

"How can I ever forget? That was the night of my life. Spending just those few hours under the stars, talking to you…I only wish it could have lasted an eternity." Doc smiled at her, taking in the look in her eyes. "Why not."

Clara's familiar smile of adoration returned to her, the one Doc feared he had lost when she had broke down in front of him only hours before. The smile he never ever wanted to lose. For a moment they stood taking in each other's love, before their attention was drawn elsewhere.

A young woman passed the queue on her way to the counter, attracting their attention for just a brief moment. An elderly man stood patiently behind Doc and Clara, politely signalling for the couple to move forward in the line. In the far distance Doc caught a glimpse of his friend waving to him for his attention. The teenager pointed to his watch and shrugged his shoulders in encrypted sign language. Doc frowned for a moment, obviously transcribing the message. Understanding that the question was "how much longer will you be?" he could do no more than to shrug his own shoulders in reply. He had no idea.

Marty sighed with decreased patience. He circled briefly just in the foyer, until something unexpectedly caught his awareness from the corner of his eye.

Then without warning, it had frighteningly seized his full attention.


End file.
